


Week Seven- Racing the Raindrops

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: Spn Hiatus Writing Challenge [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, storm watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt(s): "Oh my gosh you're in love"</p><p>and </p><p>Storm watching for kittenofdoomage.</p><p>Dedicated to @withoutaplease on Tumblr as an early birthday gift (fun fact: She shares a birthday with Jared Padalecki. He's older than her by a mere two hours).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Week Seven- Racing the Raindrops

“Oh my gosh, you’re in love!”

“Could you say it any louder?” you grumble, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Let’s tell the whole world.”

Charlie rolls her eyes. “We’re the only ones here.”

True. You and your best friend are sitting in an empty coffee shop, devoid of even employees. They’ve all disappeared to the back. You can see them through the window on the door, chatting while they work.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” you insist.

“If you say so. Now, stop trying to change the subject. You’re totally in love with Sam.”

“It’s just a crush!”

“Y/N, I know you. You’ve been ‘crushing’ on Sam for three years. At this point you can no longer call it a crush. You’re in love.”

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes to announce the arrival of a text. You pick it up and fight back a smile when you see who it’s from.

“It’s from Sam,” Charlie predicts.

“Shuddup.” She’s right. It’s Sam.

From Sam: Where are you?

To Sam: At the coffee shop with Charlie. She needed a change of scenery.

Charlie twisted her ankles badly on a hunt and has been holed up in the bunker for a few days. She’s still not back at 100%, but was coming down with a major case of cabin fever.

From Sam: When will you be back? Dean found is a hunt a few towns over. It doesn’t look like a big one, so he’s offered to stay behind with Charlie. Says they can catch up on Game of Thrones.

To Sam: We’ll be back in about an hour.

From Sam: Alright. I’ll give you the details on the drive there.

You set your phone down and take a sip of your coffee. You glance up to see Charlie watching you.

“Yep,” she says decisively. “Definitely in love.”

* * *

The hunt looks to be a simple salt-and-burn, though neither you nor Sam have said anything about that to avoiding jinxing it. Dean practically shoved the two of you into the Impala to get you to leave him behind. He said something about his back, though you still aren’t sure you believe him.

By the time you reach town, it’s around ten and the sky is a blanket of dark, looming clouds. You do your best to dumb down your eagerness at the sight of them. A good thunderstorm is just what you need.

Sam, on the other hand, frowns at the sight of the clouds when he emerges from the main office of the motel with a room key. “Hope you don’t mind sharing, they only had doubles left,” he says. “Looks like we’re in for some nasty weather.”

You look at him in shock.

“What?” he asks, grabbing both duffels from the trunk before you get the chance to carry your own.

“I cannot be associated with you anymore,” you declare. “You don’t like thunderstorms.”

He shrugs. “It’s not that I don’t like them. It’s that I’ve never seen the appeal.”

“Well, then, I guess I’ll have to show you.”

Sam lifts an eyebrow. “Alright?”

* * *

The storm breaks around eleven. You’re curled up on the crappy motel couch eating fries from the fast food place up the street and watching a Harry Potter marathon. You’re not paying too much attention, because Sam is doing yoga behind the couch and he is very distracting.

Lightning brightens the room momentarily, followed a few seconds later by a clap of thunder. You jump to your feet and rush to the armchairs by the window. You quickly turn one so you can see outside, just as the rain begins to fall.

It starts slow, a soft pitter-patter on the glass and the pavement. You trace two raindrops down the window, racing them. Every thunderstorm starts with a race. The drop on the right wins because it joined up with another drop and the increased weight helped it gain speed. Technically that’s cheating, but there’s not explaining rules to raindrops.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks. You glance backward to see that he’s sitting cross legged on the yoga mat, hands resting on his knees and back straight, but relaxed.

“Racing raindrops,” you reply. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done it.”

“Yeah, I’ve done it. When I was a kid.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Sammy. No one likes those.” you pick two new raindrops and follow their paths.

The rain is picking up now, drumming on the roof of the motel room. You wouldn’t be surprised if it started leaking, but you can’t bring yourself to mind. The sound is soothing.

You settle back in your chair, tucking your legs up, as Sam takes the other armchair. He pushes it so it’s arm-to-arm with yours. He’s sweaty, skin glowing a little in the light from the TV you left on, and still dressed in his yoga pants and the tank top he kept from that health club place with the fat-suckers. It highlights his broad shoulders and strong arms, and you find your gaze pulled from the storm outside more than once.

“What are we looking for?” he finally asks.

“Nothing,” you tell him. “We’re enjoying a wonder of nature. I haven’t seen a storm like this in months.”

Lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating the clouds. Thunder shakes the motel. You shiver, grinning.

“That was a good one,” you say. “By the looks of those clouds, this storm’s got a lot more to show us.”

“It was pretty impressive,” Sam says.

You glance over at him to find that he’s not even watching the storm. His eyes are locked on you. A blush creeps across your face and you look down at your hands in your lap.

“Y/N,” he says, leaning a little closer. Lighting flashes, highlighting the gold in his eyes. His lips look sinfully pink. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod, unable to get words out of your throat.

Those perfect lips fit up against yours, soft and exploratory. He pulls back to gaze at you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he tells you.

You smile. “Me, too.”

You bring a hand up to weave into his hair, pulling him in for another kiss. A big hand slides over your waist to settle in the small of your back. You let him draw you over the arms of the chairs and into his lap. He holds you tight, but he touch remains gently when he slips curious fingers under the edge of your t-shirt.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Yes,” you assure him, brushing his hair back from his forehead. His eyes are so bright. He looks a little starstruck, like he can’t believe you’re giving him permission.

“If you want to stop, tell me,” Sam says.

“I will. I promise. Now, take me to bed, Sam.”

That’s good enough for him. He hooks his hands under your thighs and stands, lifting you. You wrap your arms and legs around him to help him out as he carries you to the nearest bed. He lays you on it, covering you with his muscular body, and resumes kissing you.

Sam tugs up the hem of your shirt and you lift your arms so he can get it off you. You’re suddenly glad you chose your only matching pair of underwear today.

“You’re skin is so soft,” he says in wonder, fingers running over your stomach. They nudge at the underwire of your bra, waiting for permission. You nod, pressing kisses down the line of his throat. He quickly undoes the clasp and sets the garment with your t-shirt on the floor. His hands cup your breasts, teasing your nipples to hardness. “You’re even soft here.”

You smile, reaching down to do some stripping of your own. His tank top joins your t-shirt and bra.

“You are stunning,” you tell him. You trail a finger over his chest and abs, sending a shiver through him. When you look up at his face, he’s blushing. “I’m going to tell you that more often, so you’d better get used to it.”

He grins and kisses you again. Somehow you work his pants off his narrow hips. When he sits back to kick them off, he takes the time to remove yours as well. You take the opportunity to examine more of him. Judging by the bulge in his boxers, Sam is more than proportional.

“Take off your boxers?” you say, eyeing him. You really, really want to see him naked.

Sam chuckles and obeys. His cock bobs up towards his stomach, twelve inches of thick hard manhood curving slightly to the left. Your mouth waters and you’re pretty sure you’ve soaked through your panties.

Speaking of which, said panties are being inches down your thighs by long fingers. You lift your hips so he can get them over your butt. When he sets them aside, you spread your legs to his view.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, one hand coming down to squeeze the base of his erection. “You’re beautiful, baby girl.” His voice is husky with arousal and sends a shiver through your body as lightning casts stark shadows over the room. The rain on the roof is loud enough to cover any sounds you might make, a heavy drumbeat on worn shingles.

“Baby girl?” you question as he gets onto the bed, settling between your thighs.

“It feels right,” he says. “If you don’t like it, I can come up with something else.”

“Oh, no, I like it plenty.” You lift your hands to draw him in for a kiss. “Does that mean I get to call you Daddy?”

A low moan escapes him. You grin.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Sam grins. His cockhead nudges your inner thigh. “What do you want from me, baby girl?”

“Anything, Daddy.”

“Anything, huh?”

He begins pressing kisses down your neck. His lips make their way along your collarbone and over your chest to wrap around one nipple. He flicks his tongue over the tight bud, sucking, and you arch off the bed with a cry.

Sam focuses on your nipples for a long while, alternating until they’re both red and overstimulated from the attention. Only then does he continue his journey south.

He brushes fingers through your pubic hair and you flush in embarrassment, but his eyes are black with lust when he looks up and he doesn’t hesitate to spread your pussy with his hands.

“So pretty down here,” he murmurs. “You’re all wet for me, baby girl.”

You bite your lip when he blows softly across the slick skin between your folds. Your entrance twitches.

“So desperate for me.” He runs his tongue in a wide, wet line from your hole to your clit, pulling a whine from you. “Don’t hold back, baby girl. I want to hear all of your pretty noises.”

“Mmm, yes, Daddy.”

Sam goes to town then, quickly finding all your most sensitive spots. He brings you to orgasm twice before he lets up. That’s when he pushes one long, thick finger into you. Your body practically sucks him in, eager for anything at this point.

“You’re so tight, baby girl. How long has it been?”

“Too long,” you admit, fingers clutching the sheets when he crooks his finger to hit a sweet spot.

“We’re going to have to be careful. I don’t want to hurt you.” His eyes find yours when lightning illuminates the room again, almost simultaneous with the accompanying thunder. “I’m pretty big and I don’t mind if you-”

“I’m going to stop you right there and not ask how many women have run scared, because I’m not one of those women. Stretch me good and we’ll be fine. Beside,” you add, running fingers through his hair. “I’m a bit of a size queen, Daddy.”

He grins, a little sheepish, and returns to the task at hand. Sam is skilled with his fingers. He makes you come again while preparing you and he’s able to fit all four fingers knuckle deep by the time he’s satisfied.

“Ready, baby girl?” he asks, shifting up so he can kiss you. The length of his cock rubs over your clit.

You nod, lifting your hips and spreading your legs further. He leans over the side of the bed to get a condom out of his wallet. Once he’s rolled it on, he guides himself to your entrance and begins to press in.

“Fuck,” you moan, letting you head drop back onto the mattress. “Daddy, you’re so big.”

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

He inches in, using little thrusts of his hips to work you open. Suddenly he shifts around on top of you and pulls out.

Your eyes had drifted closed, but they open now. “What’s wrong?”

Sam’s already grabbed a pillow from above your head. “Need a better angle,” he explains, folding it in half and fitting it under your ass to lift your hips. “That should be better.”

He enters you again. Things go smoother than before, partially because you’re already growing accustomed to his girth and partially because of the angle. It still feels like forever before his hips meet yours, his pelvic bone and pubic hair rubbing over your sensitive clit.

“You took all of me,” he says in amazement, one hand rubbing over your pelvis. “Fuck, baby.” he sits back to get a better look at where your bodies are joined. “That’s so hot, baby girl. How’re you feeling?”

“Full,” you reply. “It burns a little, but that’s okay. I like it.”

“Are you ready for me to move?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He grins and slowly pulls out, stopping only when the head of his cock remained inside. Before he can move more, you clench around him. His jaw drops and the sound he makes is beyond sinful. His hips stutter forward.

“Fuck, baby girl, that was… fuck.”

You laugh, but it cuts off with a whine as he plunges back into you. He sets up a steady rhythm, the sound of skin on skin barely audible over the sound of the rain. You clutch at him, desperate to anchor yourself in the onslaught of pleasure.

“You feel amazing,” he murmurs. “Why did we wait so long?”

“I have no idea,” you manage.

His hand slips between your bodies and finds your clit. You whine and buck into his thrusts, urging him on. He picks up the pace. Between the massive cock pumping in and out of you and the hand rubbing circles on your clit, you can’t hold back your fourth orgasm of the night. A cry falls from your lips and your pussy spasms around Sam’s cock. He grunts and his whole body tenses. You can feel him jerking inside you as he fills up the condom.

Sam slumps over you, chest heaving. “That was… wow,” he finally gets out.

You nod as he pulls out and takes care of the condom. He grabs a washcloth from the bathroom, wets it with warm water, and uses it to clean both of you up. Then he lays down beside you.

“So,” he says. “Did I live up to the size queen’s expectations?”

“I don’t know, i might have to do a couple more test,” you tease, rolling to tuck yourself against his side. “That is, if you’re okay with that.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.”

He manages to get the two of you under the blankets, where he spoons up behind you and buries his face in the back of your shoulder. You’re probably going to wake up to some impressive morning wood, but for now you’re more than content to cuddle and sleep.

“So,” he says, breath warm on your skin. “Daddy, huh?”


End file.
